A mindful exploration into Geelong’s bat colony in Eastern Park
A group of local residents gathered on a quiet and rainy Sunday morning for Bats and Belonging – an arts project, a guided nature meditation walk and a community learning experience centred on Geelong’s grey-headed flying fox colony.
Photos by Adam Cardilini and Mik Aidt
The bat colony in Eastern Park in Geelong is one of Victoria’s largest permanent flying fox colonies. Numbers shift with the seasons – several thousand through the cooler months, rising to summer peaks above 10,000, with historic counts reaching close to 18,000 individuals.
This may sound like a lot of bats, but there are far fewer of them than there used to be. Declining habitat, heat events and human pressures mean the overall population is shrinking – which is why they’re classified as a threatened species.
Less than a kilometre from this threatened keystone species living right in the heart of the city lies a community-focused arts gallery, Untether Gallery, which in February will open its doors for an exhibition titled ‘Bats and Belonging’.
The nature walk and learning experience in Eastern Park on 16 November 2025 was organised as an opportunity for artists who’d like to contribute with an artpiece for the exhibition as well as for members of the local community who’d like to get a closer relationship with their grey-headed hand-winged neighbours.
Medition walk and presentations
Led by Dr Belinda Christie from Deakin University, the event began with a slow, silent walking meditation along the Barwon River. Participants were invited to settle their breath, notice the ground beneath their feet, and arrive with a sense of presence and compassion before meeting the bats.
At the colony, the group sat beneath the roosting trees for a period of shared silence before a series of short talks unfolded. Wildlife ecologist Dr Kaori Yokochi introduced the diversity, biology and behaviour of Australia’s bats, explaining why flying foxes are vital long-distance pollinators for eucalypt forests and why their colony in Geelong is both ecologically precious and culturally significant. She described their flight adaptations, their complex social lives, and the long histories of Indigenous stories in which bats play a central role.
Local wildlife rescuer Layla Merrit from Bats of Geelong spoke movingly about the colony’s daily challenges – starvation events, heat stress, predation, road trauma and the impacts of human disturbance. She outlined the rescue and rehabilitation work carried out by volunteers, the soft-release program that prepares pups for life back in the wild, and the urgent need for better community awareness and protective measures.
Artist and ceramicist Nysaa Braid then guided everyone through a playful drawing and deep-noticing exercise, using sound, movement and imperfect lines to explore new ways of observing the bats.
The afternoon concluded with a talk by researcher and tour guide Davita Coronel, who shared stories from her PhD on human–bat relationships. She traced the history of colonial persecution of flying foxes, the ethics of care, and the ways individuals can act to protect the species – from removing unsafe fruit-tree netting to restoring vegetation, supporting wildlife groups and speaking up for better management plans.
Below you will find short summaries of what we learned from these bat and sustainability scholars.
Across the event, participants encountered the bats not as an anonymous species but as neighbours: intelligent, social, long-lived animals with personalities, needs and stories of their own. Many left with a renewed sense of connection, responsibility and wonder, and with ideas for artistic works to contribute to the upcoming Bats and Belonging exhibition at Untether Gallery.
If you would like to submit a bat artpiece for the exhibition, you can use this entry form. Entries close on 15 January 2026.
Bats as neighbours – from awe to responsibility and connection
How a Sunday bat walk became an invitation to act
By the end of the Bats and Belonging event in Eastern Park, something had shifted. What began as a curious Sunday outing had become a deeper question: now that we know more about these animals, what do we do with that knowledge?
Sitting near the trees with thousands of grey-headed flying foxes, the conversation turned from facts and stories to responsibility, climate, and the kind of relationship we want with the bats who share our city.
Living with bats in a heating world
One of the final reminders was stark: heat is now one of the greatest threats these animals face.
Once temperatures climb above about 42 degrees, flying foxes start to fall from the trees. They go into heat shock, and many die very quickly. If they are frightened into the air on such days, it becomes even more dangerous. Pushed to fly when they are already overheated, they can develop a kind of toxic muscle breakdown that may kill them weeks later.
That is why disturbance – speeding cars, loud engines, deliberate harassment – is not just “a bit of fun”. On a hot day, it can be the difference between life and death for a colony already under pressure from climate change.
Geelong’s bat camp has, by chance, one small advantage: the nearby bay. Sea breezes often keep this site a degree or two cooler than inland camps such as Yarra Bend in Melbourne. The bats have chosen well. But even here, rising temperatures are an escalating risk. Protecting this colony now also means defending them – and ourselves – against a hotter, harsher climate.
More than noise in the trees: intelligence, language and culture
As the conversation wound down, the focus narrowed from “bats” in general to the lives of the individuals above us.
Researchers are discovering that flying foxes have far richer communication than once assumed. Early studies tried to count their calls, as if their language could be pinned down to a fixed number. Those days are gone. Newer work suggests something far more complex.
Mothers and pups have unique calls for each other – effectively, names. In the morning, after a night apart, they use those individual calls to find one another again. Bats also use appeasement gestures and subtle body language to negotiate space in crowded trees. They do not just squabble; they make peace.
This complexity has led some scientists to propose bats as a model species for studying culture: learned behaviours, shared across generations and groups. We are used to hearing that dolphins, whales or certain birds have culture. Bats belong on that list too.
Watching them through binoculars, people noticed something else: bats looking back. Individuals tracking us with their eyes, calmly assessing who we were and whether we posed a threat. They are agile, social and highly aware of the world around them.
Not “bats” – that bat
One of the most important messages near the end of the event was simple but profound: we need to shift from thinking in categories to thinking in lives.
It is easy to talk about “bats” or “flying foxes” as if they are all the same. But every animal roosting in those trees is an individual with its own history, relationships, fears and preferences. Each one cares about things. Each one has a life it is busy trying to live.
Seeing them as “wild lives” – not just as a threatened species, but as neighbours – changes the moral question. We move from “What should we do about bats?” to “What does this particular bat, in this particular place, need from us now? How do we live alongside them with respect?”
That shift in perspective is at the heart of the Bats and Belonging project.
Art, community and a colony in the heart of the city
The upcoming exhibition at Untether Gallery is part of that same shift. It sits just a kilometre from the colony, mirroring the way the bats themselves sit right in the middle of Geelong – between the bay and the streets, between the wild and the urban.
The artworks do not have to be literal pictures of bats. They can just as well be about feelings: awe, discomfort, grief, wonder, responsibility. They can be abstract, symbolic, or centred on other species that are part of this shared ecological story. What matters is that they grow out of an encounter with the bats and what they represent.
As one participant, Nikaya, reflected afterwards, she had previously seen bats only as shapes flying overhead at dusk. Now she understood their role in pollination, their vulnerability to noise, heat and human behaviour – and the need for more community knowledge and respect.
Her artistic impulse, she said, was to explore “the idea of bats, their connection to the environment, and then humans’ connection to that in turn… We need each other. Well, probably we need bats more than they need us.”
From awe to action
The closing invitation of the day was open-ended: if you are moved by what you have learned, stay involved.
For some, that might mean joining a local group, helping with advocacy, or supporting carers who rescue and rehabilitate bats. For others, it might mean changing backyard netting, slowing down near the colony, or speaking up when you see harassment. For artists, it might mean carrying this encounter back into the studio and letting it reshape your work.
At its heart, the message was this:
We are already living with flying foxes. The question now is how we choose to live with them – as a nuisance to be pushed away, or as fellow beings whose survival and thriving are bound up with our own.
The bats of Eastern Park are not just passing through. They are part of Geelong’s future. And so are the choices we make about them.
Walking as nature – a mindful path toward the bat colony
How slowing down helps us reconnect with the living world
Mindfulness may seem far removed from ecology, but for Dr Belinda Christie it is one of the most powerful tools we have for reconnecting with nature – and for caring for ourselves in a time of climate anxiety. As she welcomed a group at the beginning of a community walk to Geelong’s bat colony, she explained that her research explores “the use of mindfulness practice as a way to connect with nature, connect with other beings, and also take care of our own worries about the planet.”
The walk began with an invitation to silence. Belinda asked everyone to switch off their phones, settle their breath and step onto the path “at a pace that is a little bit slower than normal.” For those used to rushing through the day, this can feel strange at first. “If you notice that feeling of ‘I need to go quicker’ coming up,” she said, “just go, that’s interesting. It’s okay. You can slow down.”
A practice shared across cultures and centuries
Walking meditation, she explained, is not new. It appears “in almost every religious, spiritual and Indigenous tradition across the planet.” For millennia, people have used slow, attentive walking to ground themselves, to notice the world more fully and to move with a sense of belonging rather than separation.
The instruction was simple: walk as you normally walk, but just a little slower. Pay attention to the sensations usually drowned out by speed or distraction. “As you bring your heel to the earth, how does that feel? You might notice little undulations in the ground,” she said. The texture of grass, the firmness of the path, the shift of weight through the body – all become part of the meditation.
Walking on, and within, Country
A central part of Belinda’s guidance was to remember where we are. “We are walking on but within Country. We are walking as nature, not separate from her.” This shift – from seeing ourselves as observers of nature to recognising that we are nature – is one of the quiet intentions behind the practice.
Participants were invited to bring their attention either to their footsteps or to their breath. “You might notice it takes you three, maybe four steps to complete one breath,” she said. Or, simply relax and take in the moment: “Notice the trees, the colours, the lights, the shadows, the rain, the smells, the sounds.”
As the group approached the bat colony, the silence deepened. The walk had become a shared act of noticing – human and non-human forms meeting with awareness rather than noise.
Awareness with compassion
For Belinda, meditation means nothing more or less than “to be aware with compassion.” Compassion for oneself, for others on the path, and for “the bats and all other beings that are here too.” Even a single moment of such awareness, she said, counts as meditation.
Her introduction set the tone for the entire event – an experience of slowing down, paying attention and approaching the bats not as a spectacle, but as neighbours whose wellbeing depends on our willingness to walk gently.
Dr Belinda Christie is a lecturer in sustainability at Deakin University. Her research focuses on environmental education, climate-related wellbeing, and the role of mindfulness, slow practices and nature connection in building more sustainable and compassionate societies.
Our hand-winged neighbours – understanding the bats who live among us
Why flying foxes matter, and what makes them extraordinary
When Dr Kaori Yokochi speaks about bats, the first thing that comes through is her delight in them. To her, bats are not shadowy silhouettes or Halloween symbols but amazing creatures that form an essential, often overlooked part of Australia’s ecosystems – and part of our neighbourhoods.
During the gathering at Geelong’s Eastern Park colony, Kaori offered a clear, engaging introduction to what bats really are, why they matter, and why the flying foxes above our heads deserve both wonder and protection.
A world of bats, not just one kind
Most people think of bats as a single type of animal. Kaori reminded the group how far from reality that is.
There are more than 1,300 species of bats worldwide, far more than the roughly 350 species of marsupials. Even here in Australia we have over 80 species, and in Geelong alone around 13 species have been recorded.
Bats belong to a group called Chiroptera, which literally means “hand-wing.” As Kaori explained:
“Birds fly with their arms. Bats fly with their hands.”
Each bat wing is a membrane stretched across elongated fingers – a living, flexible structure full of thousands of tiny sensors that detect wind and air pressure. It gives them extraordinary control in flight, allowing them to twist, brake, hover and glide in ways birds cannot.
Crucially, bats are the only mammals capable of true powered flight. Gliding mammals like sugar gliders may leap and coast, but they cannot flap their way through the night sky.
Upside down and brilliant at it
One of the peculiarities of bats is their habit of hanging upside down. This isn’t an acrobatic party trick – it is their natural resting position.
For bats, the gripping motion of their feet is effortless. They must use energy not to hang, but to release their hold. Being inverted also benefits their circulation: blood flows easily to the head, unlike humans who must work against gravity to supply our brains.
Bats also use their wings like cloaks. On a cold or rainy day, they wrap themselves for warmth; on warm days, they fan their wings to cool their bodies. Every movement has a purpose.
Misunderstood across Western cultures
Kaori spoke gently but clearly about the stigma bats face. In many Western cultures, bats have long been associated with fear – darkness, evil, devils, vampires. But in parts of Asia they symbolise good fortune, prosperity and divine messages. Cultural stories shape how we treat wildlife, she noted, and negative myths can create conflict.
“It is really unfortunate, because they are amazing creatures,” she said.
The flying foxes of Australia – the large, fruit-eating species often called megabats – are gentle, social animals whose ecological role is profound.
Flying foxes: long-distance gardeners of the bush
Grey-headed flying foxes, the species living in Geelong, are frugivores: they feed on fruit, nectar, pollen and blossom. In doing so, they pollinate more than 100 species of native plants. Their ability to fly more than 50 kilometres in a single night allows them to move pollen and seeds across vast distances, stitching ecosystems together.
This makes them a keystone species. Kaori used the image of a stone arch:
“If you remove the keystone, the whole structure collapses.”
Without flying foxes, eucalyptus forests – and the ecosystems and species that depend on them – would suffer severe decline.
A threatened species living in the heart of the city
Despite the large gatherings we see in summer, grey-headed flying foxes are listed as Vulnerable to extinction. Habitat loss, extreme heat, food shortages and human disturbance have caused steep population declines.
The colony in Eastern Park is one of the few permanent camps in Victoria, used year-round. During the warmer months, the trees fill with mothers and their pups – a sensitive time when disturbance can easily cause stress or abandonment.
Kaori emphasised how remarkable it is to have a threatened keystone species living so accessibly:
“People travel all over the world to see something like this… and you have it right here in your city.”
She reminded participants that these bats are not anonymous wildlife but neighbours – beings with their own lives, relationships and histories intertwined with Country.
Bats in Aboriginal culture: Balayang and Bunjil
Among First Nations cultures, bats have long held significance. In Kulin Nation stories, the flying fox Balayang is the younger brother of Bunjil, the creator of land and law. Balayang appears in creation stories about the shaping of rivers, landscapes and relationships.
Such stories reveal a long-standing respect for these animals – a perspective modern Australia is slowly rediscovering.
Brilliant immunity and evolutionary surprises
Kaori also touched on one of the most fascinating aspects of bat biology: their immune system. Unlike humans, who trigger inflammation when fighting viruses, bats keep their immune responses switched on without causing harm to their own tissues.
Scientists are studying these adaptations because they may one day help inform human medicine.
A call to look, learn and respect
Kaori’s central message was simple: understand the bats, and the rest follows. Misunderstanding breeds fear; knowledge fosters care.
She encouraged everyone to choose a few individuals in the colony, observe their behaviour, and let curiosity lead the way.
“Hopefully you get to know these guys a lot more today… and realise how different they are from us,” Kaori said. Understanding, she suggested, is the first step toward coexistence.
Dr Kaori Yokochi is a wildlife ecologist and lecturer at Deakin University. Her research focuses on urban ecology and the ways human environments shape the lives of wildlife. She studies microbats and megabats, the impacts of light pollution, rodenticide and roads on animal populations, and the broader question of how humans can better coexist with the species who share our cities. Her work also explores how people connect emotionally and ethically with nature, recognising that valuing wildlife is essential to protecting it.
Guardians of the colony: caring for Geelong’s flying foxes
Why this threatened species needs protection, compassion and community action.
When Layla Merrit speaks about flying foxes, she speaks from the front line. As a wildlife carer, a veterinary nurse and the founder of Bats of Geelong, she has witnessed both the beauty and the vulnerability of the colony that lives in Eastern Park. Her work sits where wildlife conservation meets crisis response, community education and daily hands-on care.
Her message to the group was clear: these animals are intelligent, social and essential to our ecosystems – but they are also living under pressure, and often under threat from the very community they live among.
A colony in crisis: the 2023 starvation event
Layla described the devastating spring of 2023, when heavy rains washed away food sources across the region. Flying fox mothers, weakened and unable to sustain their pups, began abandoning their babies – sometimes in random places, sometimes right in the Geelong colony.
Every day, volunteers came to search for pups that were cold, starving or injured.
“We were here every day spotting abandoned pups… and we lost a lot to ravens,” she tells us.
With the colony roosting in open canopy, abandoned pups were exposed and defenceless. Ravens quickly located them, and many pups either died or suffered severe trauma requiring euthanasia. The experience revealed just how fragile the colony is during difficult seasons – and how urgently local support is needed.
Threats from the community: noise, harassment and unintentional harm
Not all threats came from weather or predators. Layla explained that human disturbance was often just as harmful.
People threw pinecones into the trees to force the bats to fly, unaware that sudden flight burns enormous energy and can cause a dangerous condition called exertional myopathy, leading to muscle breakdown and even multi-organ failure.
“When people try to get the bats to fly, they’re actually causing real harm.”
Other disturbances included cars speeding through the colony, deliberately revving or “hitting the limiter” to make gunfire-like sounds. This noise can lift the entire colony into the air, separating mothers and pups, interrupting feeding and increasing stress.
The bats’ stress response – like ours – suppresses immunity, disrupts breeding and makes disease more likely.
There is no signage at the site warning the public that disturbing the bats is illegal. For Layla, this gap in public education was one of the reasons she founded Bats of Geelong: to give the colony a voice and build understanding rather than conflict.
Advocacy and protecting the colony
Through the new charity, Layla and fellow volunteers have worked to push for change. One early win was convincing the council to stop mowing directly under the roost, which previously triggered mass disturbance when heavy tractors moved through.
They are also pushing for:
• better signage
• speed-control measures
• cameras to deter harassment
• stronger enforcement during breeding season
It is slow work, but Layla believes community persistence makes a difference:
“Just some people standing up and raising their voice changes things.”
Rescue, rehabilitation and the emotional labour of care
Layla spends much of the breeding season rescuing bats injured by cars, dogs and powerlines. Many adults do not survive electrocution, but their pups often do – left clinging to the mother’s body, alive but orphaned.
Every morning she checks the colony for pups who have been abandoned because their mothers died while foraging at night. Many are only four or five weeks old: cold, wet and alone.
She showed the group one such pup:
“He was teeny tiny, freezing, soaked from the rain… completely vulnerable.”
With an 18-metre carbon-fibre pole, she lifted him from the branch. Rescued pups are given warmth, glucose and – importantly – a dummy. It mimics the comfort of their mother’s teat and helps them settle.
Bonding and learning to be bats
Orphaned pups bond strongly with their carers. They cling to them, respond to their voices and gather excitedly for bottles and fruit. This bond is intentional: it replaces the mother’s warmth, heartbeat and safety, which young flying foxes need for healthy development.
But it cannot last forever. At seven weeks, pups start eating fruit; by 12 weeks, they are fully weaned. They are always raised in groups – never singly – to develop social skills.
After their time with carers, they are transferred to a specialised slow-release aviary in Yarra Bend, where they learn to forage and behave independently. Volunteers feed them, clean the aviaries and gradually reduce human contact. When ready, the hatch is opened and the young bats begin flying out at night and returning as they choose, supported with supplementary food for two weeks.
Hand-raised flying foxes do extremely well in the wild. One banded bat was found at 19 years of age in New South Wales – far beyond the typical 15-year life expectancy.
Healing, intelligence and personalities
Adult rescues often involve horrific wing injuries from barbed wire. Many can never fly again, but flying foxes are remarkable healers. Their wing membranes can regenerate from wounds “as big as your hand,” sometimes closing completely.
They are also astonishingly intelligent – on par with primates and dolphins. Layla described individuals who recognise carers, gently take fruit from hands, cooperate during medical care and even play tricks on one another.
Her story of the juvenile who stole an entire bunch of grapes – wrapping it around his head while the others waited politely – showed the cheeky, social nature that she says surprises many people.
“They’re not scary at all. They’re kind, social, intelligent. They trust us – even though we sometimes cause them harm.”
This trust, she said, is why the community has a responsibility to protect them.
A call for compassion and connection
Layla’s message was ultimately one of coexistence. Flying foxes are keystone species, pollinating and seed-spreading their way across the landscape, keeping forests alive. They live long, complex social lives and depend on stable, safe roosting sites.
To protect them, she said, we need public understanding, respectful behaviour and a willingness to advocate for better management.
“We’re very lucky to have them here in Geelong. We should be respectful, and bring them into our community life,” Layla said.
Her work – and the work of many volunteers – is unpaid. It is driven by purpose, love and a profound sense of responsibility.
If you see a bat on the ground:
• Do not touch it.
• Place a box or container over the bat to keep it safe and shaded.
• Contact a wildlife organisation immediately (for example Wildlife Victoria or Bats of Geelong). They will alert a trained carer like Layla.
If you hear about Geelong’s new flying fox management plan:
• Read it.
• Make a submission.
• Encourage improvements that prioritise animal welfare.
Community voices matter – they already have made a difference.
Layla Merrit is a registered wildlife carer with Wildlife Victoria and the founder of Bats of Geelong, an ACNC-registered charity dedicated to protecting and rehabilitating flying foxes in the region. A veterinary nurse at Werribee Open Range Zoo, she works professionally with wildlife and specialises in the rescue, care and release of sick, injured and orphaned flying foxes.
Layla leads daily monitoring of the Eastern Park colony, advocates for improved management and public education, and provides hands-on rehabilitation for orphaned pups during the breeding season. Her work combines conservation, emergency animal care and community engagement to safeguard this threatened keystone species.
Flying foxes in Geelong: history, harm and the ethics of care
Dr Davita Coronel’s talk in Eastern Park placed today’s bat colony in the long sweep of history – and reminded the group that how we relate to flying foxes now will determine their future.
Davita approaches flying fox conservation not as a biologist, but as a social scientist. Her work focuses on relationships between people and wildlife, and how those relationships can shift from conflict and fear toward care and coexistence.
In her PhD, Learning to Live with Flying Foxes, Davita explores how communities form bonds with these animals, how volunteers care for them, and how cultural stories shape the way we understand them.
An ancient presence – and a long human relationship
Although the fossil record is sparse, flying foxes have occupied this continent for a very long time. Their presence can be traced in Indigenous cultural stories, in totems, and even in ancient rock art sites – including one in Kakadu that features flying foxes.
For many First Peoples, these animals were and remain kin: beings to be protected, honoured and cared for. That deep relationship of reciprocity existed for generations before colonial disruption.
Colonisation and the attempt to “get rid of them”
Davita has studied early colonial archives, and the record is brutal. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, settlers repeatedly attempted to eradicate flying foxes.
There were:
• professional flying fox hunters
• government bounties
• shooting for sport
• explosives detonated in roost trees
None of these efforts succeeded – the bats survived. But the damage was severe. By the time population monitoring began, grey-headed flying fox numbers had already dropped sharply, with an estimated 30 per cent decline in just one decade. This is why the species has been listed as threatened for more than 20 years.
Cruelty persists today
Despite improved laws and growing community care, persecution continues. Davita recalled a recent case in Queensland where a council attempted to disperse a colony by setting off fireworks inside the roost. Such actions cause enormous stress, injury and separation of mothers from pups.
She emphasised that while public attitudes have improved, cruelty still occurs, and we have not yet built the kind of relationship that ensures long-term safety for these animals.
A framework for coexistence: care as practice
Davita uses “care ethics” to understand how people and flying foxes can live well together. Care, she explained, is not only a feeling but a practice. It involves several elements:
Attentiveness – noticing the needs of the flying foxes: safe habitat, minimal noise, food sources, protection from hazards such as netting and barbed wire.
Responsibility – organising ourselves so these needs can be met. This might involve community advocacy, habitat restoration, or replacing dangerous fruit-tree netting.
Responsiveness – paying attention to what the animals show us. Observing their behaviour, listening to what their presence tells us about the health of the environment, and adjusting our actions accordingly.
These principles, she said, are already visible in the efforts of volunteer groups across Victoria. They form the quiet, everyday foundation of coexistence.
Bats touch people deeply – moments of connection
Davita spoke of the emotional impact many people report when encountering flying foxes up close.
One rescuer told her about freeing a female bat from a barbed-wire fence. As the carer carefully worked to untangle the membrane, the bat gently licked her hand. In the middle of pain and distress, there was recognition, trust and connection.
Others describe the intensity of making eye contact with a bat at rest: the animal calmly assessing them, deciding whether to trust them. These are transformative moments that stay with people for years.
Flying foxes also influence people on a collective, ecological scale. Davita shared the example of a 2016 mass flowering event in Brisbane, when tens of thousands of bats from across eastern Australia converged on a single species of tree. Their ability to communicate, navigate and coordinate across huge distances filled many observers with awe.
Such experiences, she said, expand our sense of wonder and belonging in the natural world.
Seeing bats as neighbours, not nuisances
Davita’s core message was this: Flying foxes have lived on this land far longer than any of us; our relationship with them is not new; it is a continuation of ancient ties. If we wish to protect them into the future, we must shift from seeing them as problems to be solved to neighbours with whom we share responsibility.
Their survival now depends largely on humans – on our willingness to pay attention, to learn, and to act with care.
Dr Davita Coronel is a social scientist whose research examines the relationships between humans and wildlife, with a particular focus on grey-headed flying foxes. She completed her PhD at the University of Melbourne on the topic Learning to Live with Flying Foxes, combining archival research, ethnography and care ethics.
Davita is the President of the Friends of Bats and Bushcare Group at Yarra Bend Park, where she works closely with volunteers involved in soft-release and rehabilitation programs. She also runs guided flying-fox tours in Melbourne, helping communities build deeper understanding and connection with this threatened species. More at davitacoronel.com.